


Disarming

by jazzjo



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-17 22:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19963948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzjo/pseuds/jazzjo
Summary: This is a story that starts in college. This is not a story that ends in college. This is an inevitable story.ORUNC plays Stanford and Kelley introduces Tobin, her best friend from the national team, to Christen, her best friend from college. The story that follows is where that first meeting takes them.





	1. At the Beginning

As she laces up her cleats – tight, but not too tight, looped and knotted in the same spot as they have been since she got them where the indent has been pressed into the laces – she closes her eyes and stills herself. She had started before, sure, but now she was a regular starter, up top with Kelley O’Hara who just seemed to be running a race she could never catch up to sometimes. When she’d finished her first ever practice for Stanford and saw Kelley play for the first time, Christen had more or less resigned herself to being a second-string sub for Kelley until the older girl graduated, but Coach had thankfully been inspired to pair the two of them up during a scrimmage late in Christen’s first season, and he’d been grooming their dynamic ever since.

Breathe, Christen.

Breathe.

In… Out…

It’s just another ninety minutes.

Kelley lets her have her moment before tugging her gently out of the locker room. Following the stark white #19 on Kelley’s jersey, Christen shakes her hands out, loosening up her joints as they step into line and then out onto the field. All Christen clocks before the whistle blows is Kelley telling her to not open her legs for #98 (whatever the hell that means) before they’re off and running. Literally. If nothing else, Paul Ratcliffe put her on the pitch with Kelley for her sheer speed on the ball.

The game is hard-fought, and the longer it goes on the clearer it gets for Christen exactly why Kelley had said what she did (in the most Kelley O’Hara way possible, of course). #98 is quick and beyond nimble on her feet, but instead of faking out a defender and dribbling around them, she chooses to nutmeg them, over and over and over again. She’s up and down the midfield and is quick enough that she’s generally on the attacking half but has seriously challenged Christen for the ball more than once. Christen is fast, though, as she well knows. She stalls for a fraction of a second as she and #98 lock eyes at the midfield, before taking advantage of the split second where the other girl seems to take a second to blink to make a swift dash down towards the goal, her eyes trained just close enough to where she knows Kelley will be in a few moments to lock the plan in for them both.

More than one defender attempts to challenge her for the ball, but she fakes one out with a sole roll and manages to nutmeg another before sending the ball to Kelley seconds before she passes the last defender between them. It shoots off the laces of her cleats with the most satisfying impact, and Kelley takes a single bound to plant her foot before sending an absolute rocket of a shot just past the tip of the keeper’s fingers at the near post. Before either of them knows it, the ball is spinning in the back of the net behind UNC’s keeper, and Kelley has barreled into Christen with the widest grin on her face.

UNC doesn’t take the goal lying down, though, and within the next five minutes, #98 has made an almost inhuman run down from the midfield past most of Stanford’s defense, weaving in and out of them. She’s just about to line up a shot when Rachel Quon nearly gets her foot on the ball, forcing #98 to take a quick turn before chipping the ball over Stanford’s keeper with the back of her cleat. When play restarts, Christen is still breathless and reeling from the goal.

The rest of the game tests both sides over and over again, though neither team ends up able to win the lead back and the score remains 1-1 when the whistle blows three times.

As they line up to shake hands with the opposing team, Christen feels her breath hitch as she shakes #98’s hand, her shoulders pulling back slightly. Kelley nudges her along, only to follow that up with a lighthearted smack to the back of #98’s head, both of them grinning at each other.

“Told you you couldn’t beat me, O’Hara,” #98 jibes.

Christen can feel Kelley roll her eyes behind her as she volleys back, “The same could be said of you, Heath.”

They go down the line and head back into the locker room, where Coach praises their playing and talks through a few key insights for the game. He doesn’t keep them for too long, just reminding them to come in for the next practice ready to work through more specifics about that night’s game.

Christen doesn’t take off her cleats while most of her teammates do. She knows most of them will be out of the locker room within the next fifteen minutes or so, but she picks up her water bottle and heads back out to the now-empty field.

Lining up a bunch of the balls still scattered around the edges of the field, Christen takes a running start before knocking the first one into the upper 90. Twenty-four more sail into the goal aimed at various spots before she lets herself take a breather.

There isn’t really a specific shot that she is trying to atone for tonight, even though they didn’t win. She just wants to be the best she can be, and that means being able to score goals that seem impossible. And to do that, she needs practice. As she winds up for her next shot, something in her shifts and she stops right before planting her foot, running the ball up a little closer to the goal before turning and chipping it in with her heel. Her eyes follow the arc of the ball tentatively, closing in relief as it hits the back of the net.

“Nice shot.”

Christen picks up her head, her eyes refocusing on a figure coming closer to her, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans, a snapback on backwards.

That voice.

#98.

Something in Christen shifts again, and she finds herself responding before she can stop herself, “You could say I was inspired.”

“Tobin Heath,” #98 steps close enough to stick out her hand, grinning a little lopsidedly at Christen, “You always continue to give the goal a hard time after a game?”

“Christen Press,” She shakes the hand that #98 – Tobin – offers, her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she continues speaking, “You always come back out to the home team’s field when you’re done with an away game?”

“Touché, Press, touché.”

Tobin is disarming, Christen’s brain registers as she finds herself speaking again, “I finish every game and practice off by taking a hundred shots off each foot. It’s a habit, I suppose.”

“It’s dedication is what it is, Press,” Tobin responds, leaning on one hip in a way that Christen really can’t describe as anything other than disarming, “You’re a damn good forward.”

Christen feels her face burn, thankful for the fact that not all the stadium lights are on anymore and that her blush is probably less visible than it would be on someone as pale as Kelley.

“You’re not a shabby midfielder either,” Christen replies, starting to head back towards the locker room. Something in her wants to ask Tobin to follow her, to stay and keep talking to Tobin, to find some excuse to keep this conversation going somehow, even if it hasn’t really gone anywhere yet. Tobin sits down on the field right as Christen has to make a choice, though, and she grins up at Christen easily.

“I sit out here when we play Stanford, just to wait for a friend who’s really slow in the locker room,” Tobin chuckles at her own comment, before continuing, “Don’t let me hold you up, but could you tell Kelley that she’s going to turn into a prune if she stays in the shower that long?”

Christen laughs and nods, feeling lighter than she usually does after games, walking back to the locker room and unlacing her cleats. Kelley, predictably, is still in the shower.

Once they’re showered and changed into fresh clothes, Kelley sidles up to Christen’s locker and leans against the one next to it. It’s still taking some getting used to, that Kelley O’Hara is her actual-proper-for-real friend now, rather than just an upperclassman she looks up to endlessly.

“Nice assist today, Pressi,” She smiles, “You really gave a whole bunch of defenders a run for their money. Come on, I’m buying you a post-game snack.”

“That midfielder from UNC is waiting for you on the field, Kell,” Christen jokingly points out as she shoulders her bag, “You fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Nah, Tobs wishes she was my type,” Kelley responds breezily, “I want my best friend from here to meet my best friend from the National Team though.”

That’s when it clicks for Christen.

“Oh my god. She’s Tobin Heath. Like, Olympic Gold Medalist Tobin Heath.”

To Kelley’s credit, she only makes fun of Christen once for not recognising Tobin earlier. Not to Kelley’s credit, she does it to Tobin’s face.

* * *

The three of them are sitting by Kelley’s favourite taco truck when Kelley brings it up and Christen pretty much wants the ground to swallow her up until she realizes that Tobin is actually smiling at the story, rather than laughing with any sort of mockery or malice.

It’s then that Christen allows herself to crack a smile at the story too.

“Honestly, it’s so not my fault I didn’t realise who the midfielder swimming in her own jersey was,” Christen chuckles after a moment, “I mean, there was more jersey than human running around on that field.”

Tobin chucks a shred of lettuce at Christen’s head and Christen responds in kind. Kelley takes the chance and drops an ice cube from her water bottle down the backs of both their shirts, before taking off running down the sidewalk as both of them shoot to their feet and chase after her, cursing her name.

None of them have nearly enough energy to keep up the chase for too long, and soon enough they’re all bidding their goodbyes outside the hotel that the UNC team is staying in for the night, Kelley and Tobin promising to catch up the next time either of them is in town.

It isn’t until she and Kelley are halfway back to their shared apartment that Christen realizes that she’s been smiling since the jersey joke, and the smile only widens when her phone vibrates in her pocket with a few texts from an unknown number:

* * *

_it was really rad meeting you today_

_you’re a great forward_

_and a cool person._

_like, i know you’re not just a soccer playing machine_

_this is tobin, btw. i made kell give me your number_

* * *

Well, fuck.

“Who’s that?” Kelley asks as she unlocks their front door.

“Tobin.”

Kelley laughs, a bright sound bubbling out of her throat, “I’m calling it right now, Press.”

Christen just shakes her head, ducking past Kelley to hide the burning of her cheeks as she heads into her room for the night.

“Good game, Kell,” Christen says before she shuts her door, “Have a good sleep and I’ll see you in the morning before training.”

Shutting her door, Christen lets herself change into a sleep shirt and shorts and switch her contacts out for glasses before pulling out her phone again.

* * *

_Hmm. I don’t think I know a Tobin._

_I’m just kidding. It was really nice to meet you too._

_You could’ve just asked me for my number, but I’m glad Kelley gave it to you._

_i think i’m meant to get to know you, christen press_

_I think I know what you mean._


	2. Chapter 2

_Good morning, love._

_Did you sleep well?_

_morning sunshine_

_it’s unfair it’s 6.30am there and you’re more awake than i am_

Right after she’d put away her yoga mat, Christen’s phone started ringing, and she picked up as she stuck her foot into her shoe and tied the laces tight.

“Hey Chris!” Tobin’s voice came over the line.

“Hey Tobin,” Christen smiled as she replied, “Are you actually out of bed, or do I need to ask you to send me a photo of your feet on the ground to prove it?”

“Chriiiis!”

Christen rolled her eyes, letting the door shut behind her as she headed out for her morning run as she responded, “You have to admit it’s not a ridiculous question to be asking, Tobin.”

Her phone buzzed against her ear, and she brought it down to look at the photo that had just been sent. Tobin had taken a not-too-well angled shot of socked feet against a wooden floor but Christen knew better than to buy the cheap attempt at fooling her.

“Tobin, your feet aren’t even touching the floor in the photo, and you’re obviously taking it from your bed,” Christen sighed with a small smile she couldn’t quite keep off her face, “You need to get up or you’ll miss the bus to the airport.”

Shuffling could be heard over the line, followed by a groan. As far as Christen could tell, though, no feet had properly touched the floor quite yet.

“Actually, on second thought, maybe you should miss the bus, Tobey,” Christen joked, “Gotta get some of the competition out of the way somehow.”

An indignant scoff was Tobin’s only response, followed by the slightly flustered scrambling that must have been the older girl getting out of bed at long last.

“I’ll see you soon, Chris,” Tobin finally said, “I’m going to have a hoot putting you in a UNC sweatshirt after we win the finals next week.”

“We’ll see, Tobin. We’ll see.”

They said their goodbyes, Tobin promising to go over the packing list that she and Christen had put together the week before and making Christen promise to be careful on her run. As she stepped out of the building, Christen made sure her earphones were secure before setting herself off on her usual route at a decent pace, wanting to take the morning in and consciously let her surroundings center her for the day.

There was something calming about running just for the sake of it. It was so different than when she would take off with the ball on the field, relying on her well-honed speed and ball-handling abilities to keep defenders off her back. This was almost dance-like, every step measured and balanced, paced and self-indulgent. It had no other purpose other than to take her further forward.

She loved soccer. She knew it in her heart of hearts that she did, even when another National Team call-up came and went, and she still found herself only in the U-23 pool. Stanford was doing wonders for her soccer. She just worried about after.

Kelley would tell her she had time. That she still had another year with the Cardinals. She had time.

For now, she just had to focus on the semifinals against UCLA coming up tomorrow. They were getting on a flight in a couple of hours to head to College Station, and all she had to do was keep her head together and help the team win the match, and then the next. For the seniors. For Paul. For Kelley.

It took about as long for Christen to get out of her head as it did for her to finish her run and arrive back at her door. Letting herself back in, she toed off her shoes and set them aside to air, stepping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast before knocking on Kelley’s door.

“Kell, we gotta get to the bus soon to go to the airport!”

The groan from within the room was audible, though certainly duvet-muffled.

“O’Hara, don’t you want to kick Leroux’s ass?”

Again, with that groan. Damn it, Kelley.

_It really is a whole new level of hell trying to get Kell out of bed._

_I even invoked the name of Sydney Leroux. No dice._

_the only thing stronger than kelley’s competitive streak is her lazy one_

_threaten her chocolate milk supply_

_If she murders me, I’m blaming you, Heath._

“Kelley, I’m gonna pour your chocolate milk down the si–“

Before Christen could finish her sentence, the door to the senior’s room opened and she stood there, eyes narrowed, “You wouldn’t dare, Press.”

Christen laughed, tilting her head towards the kitchen and walking over with Kelley, presenting her a plate of banana and oat pancakes as a peace offering.

“Oh Pressi, what am I going to do without you next year?” Kelley sighed, digging into their traditional pre-away game breakfast.

“Starve, probably,” Christen joked back.

Conversation came and went as the two friends ate their breakfast together, drifting comfortably in and out of silence. As they both finished up, Kelley took their plates and washed them before they both headed back to their rooms to get ready and get their things together before meeting the rest of the team.

Christen was ready first, sitting on the floor next to her duffel as she waited for Kelley to reappear. Knowing her, Kelley was probably still tossing things into her own bag at the last minute.

_should we tell o’hara about this at some point_

_I was about to ask that._

_Feels like we should._

_She’s my best friend. Yours too. She’ll be happy for us._

_still can’t believe we’ve kept this from her for nearly a year_

_I think we should tell her. Feels right._

_let’s do it_

_before or after we kick your asses?_

_What about after **we** win the College Cup?_

_loser’s gotta break it to her_

_You’re on, Heath._

_I’ll see you soon, love._

“You’re grinning like a fool, Pressi. I’ve only been standing here for four hours,” Kelley teased, standing in front of Christen with her duffel over her shoulder, “Got a secret to share with the class?”

Christen rolled her eyes and bit her lip, getting to her feet and grabbing her duffel as they headed out of the door.

“Do you have everything you need, Kell?”

Kelley shrugged, winking at Christen, “Yep! And if I don’t, I’ll just mooch off you, roomie.”

* * *

The field was miserably cold and windy on Friday, an unfortunate side effect of Texas in December. It could well be worse – it could be Chicago – but Christen desperately missed the comfort of Californian winters.

She and Kelley started up top together, Paul being more than willing to keep with the strategy that had kept the Cardinals scoring goal after goal this season. The game had gone past half-time without a single goal scored on either side, but she had assisted Kelley on the senior’s 26th goal of season, only to have Kelley hug her to celebrate their 20th goal together that season.

The Cardinals had stayed wary, celebrating their lead but watchful over the team that had made it to so many consecutive final matches for the College Cup, and for good reason. Lauren Cheney equalized within fifteen minutes of Kelley’s goal, and the team kicked into high gear thereafter.

Every other shot they had went wide, or fired off the posts, but as they went into overtime Christen made herself take a breath.

She knew two things when she walked on this field today.

One, that this was a second chance. They had lost to Notre Dame in the semifinals last year, and the exact same four teams were in the semis this year.

Two, that the team that wanted it most would win this game.

And hell, she _wanted_ to win. All the Cardinals did.

So she kept her eye on the prize. They could still do it. She was a forward and she just had to keep her eyes peeled for the chance to put one last goal away to take her team into the finals.

The chance came in the form of a long pass from defense, ricocheting off one of the Bruins’ defenders. She lifted her eyes and set her mind to where she wanted to place the ball, took a stride forward, and drove it hard and low on the exhale.

25 yards. In the far post.

Her team came rushing to her, Kelley reaching her first.

They’d done it.

They would play UNC in two days.

She looked into the stands, meeting the pair of eyes she wanted nothing more than to stare into that night. Tobin grinned, waving and beaming so widely that Christen was almost happier to have made her so proud than to have scored the golden goal to take Stanford through to the finals.

* * *

_Good morning, love._

_morning sunshine_

_game day, huh?_

_We’ve got this._

Tobin and Christen hardly talked for the rest of the day, having made a silent agreement to let them each focus on playing the best game they could without having to bring too many emotions into it. They send wordless messages – kisses, mostly – but for the most part both girls were caught up in the preparations that their teams were making for the final match that night.

The match itself could have gone far better, though.

Stanford couldn’t quite get its bearings right at the start, conceding the lead to the Tar Heels off an admittedly gorgeous goal. As they pulled their socks up and tried to even the score, Christen found herself getting increasingly frustrated as UNC’s defense choked the Cardinals’ offence.

“Come on, Christen,” She muttered to herself, shaking off another shot gone wide, “Wait it out, breakaway, and just go for it.”

Minutes ticked down, her mind singularly focused on fighting tooth and nail for her school and their undefeated season thus far, for Kelley and the rest of the seniors on the field. Honestly, for the first time in a long time Tobin wasn’t even close to the forefront of her mind.

She just wanted to play good soccer.

It was just really hard for Stanford to play good soccer today, somehow.

Kelley ended up being sent off the field early with a second yellow card, her last season prematurely ended due to a bad tackle. That just made Christen even more determined to pull the team together and eke out a goal somehow.

They still had a shot. There was still time on the clock.

Until that shot was called offsides in the 89th minute.

Until the game ended, and UNC won and Christen still could not process how what should have been the last goal of her season ended up negated. Even so, Christen did process the beam on Tobin’s face as she lifted the trophy with her team, champions in her senior season.

Until she hugged Kelley as they both sobbed sitting on the cold, slick grass in Aggie Stadium after Paul had debriefed the team. They’d had a great season. One for the records. They’d just come up a little short of what they had started out looking for.

A large, warm towel was draped around them both after they’d been sitting for a while. Looking up, Christen saw Tobin and gave a small smile. Tobin wrapped her arms around her two favourite Cardinals, kissing both their temples and holding them close.

“We did good, didn’t we Tobes?” Kelley murmured, “We both played really good last seasons for our schools.”

“We sure did, Kell,” Tobin replied, pulling Kelley closer, “We’re going out with a bang.”

“National Team, here we come,” Kelley smiled, the sadness in her voice fading slightly.

Tobin dropped another kiss onto Christen’s cheek, lingering for a second before she spoke, “Chris, you had such a good season. Damn, I still remember hearing about the 23-second goal you made against BYU. Tonight doesn’t change what a good season it was.”

“You’re right, babe,” Christen exhaled and let her shoulders sag after too long holding them up, “It didn’t end the way I wanted it to, but it was still the best one I’ve ever had. How could it not be, given who I always got to play with?”

Kelley and Christen shared a smile, both brightening slightly in spite of the night’s disappointment. The three friends sat a while longer, holding each other close as two of their college soccer careers ended on that very field.

“Come on, fools,” Kelley suddenly broke the silence, “I’m buying us all tacos.”

All three of them let laughs bubble up from deep within them, heading into the locker rooms to change out of their kits and grab their gear.

_I’m cold._

_I was promised a sweatshirt._

Tobin handed it over to Christen the moment they all meet in the parking lot, and to her credit Kelley didn’t say a word.

Yet.

Once all three of them were sitting with one (or maybe two. Or three.) more tacos than strictly necessary, Kelley finally caved.

“So, Pressi, Tobes,” Kelley drawled, “Babe, huh?”

Christen blushed to the tip of her ears, and Tobin put her hand on Christen’s leg and squeezed gently.

“We’ve been together a couple of months,” Christen revealed, “Started talking after that first game last year, and we just never stopped.”

“I flirted mercilessly through till after Christmas before this one finally realized that I actually liked her too,” Tobin teased, “I had to tell her to ask me out.”

Kelley set her half-eaten taco down and peered at both her best friends intently, “And you mean to say you two idiots waited nearly a whole year to tell me about this?”

“I mean, when you put it that way–“

“I called this!” Kelley exclaimed, indignant, “More than a year ago!”

It only took a few seconds for Kelley’s joy to take over, though, and before long she was badgering them for details of how exactly this had come to pass.

Listening to her girlfriend and her best friend talk the night away, Christen smiled in spite of that night’s loss with real happiness in her heart. Sure, they had lost the championship, and sure, she was undeniably going to spend the better part of the next few months using her disappointment from tonight’s game to fuel her need to improve, but she was sitting here with her best friend and her girlfriend after a fantastic season, and that was good enough for now.


	3. Chapter 3

The better part of December blew by before Christen could quite catch up with it. Between the season ending, finals, and doing long-distance with Tobin, time seemed to fly out from under her feet. Before she knew it, she was putting her suitcase in the back of her car and starting the drive back to her parents’ home for the holiday season. Her junior year at Stanford was half over.

For how close by home was, she hadn’t spent a ton of time there this year. It had been a pretty conscious decision on her part, after freshman year, to make visits back to her childhood home a conscious decision rather than a mindless habit. A huge motivator in going to college had been to learn to live more independently, above and beyond her usual soccer travelling, and Christen was determined to do that even if Stanford was only a short drive away from her parents.

And dogs.

Staying away from her dogs was probably the hardest part.

But she was going back now. Back home. In a way.

Christmas break after first semester freshman year had definitely felt like a homecoming, as had the trip back to Palos Verdes when summer began. Christmas during sophomore year as well, for the most part.

But that home was starting to feel less like it was her only home. It still was, for sure. Safe, warm, comforting, and known in a way that only home could be, but it wasn’t her only home anymore.

Stanford was becoming home, especially with the team. Her place with Kelley was becoming home.

As much as it scared Christen to realize this so quickly, Tobin was becoming home.

She was homesick. Even as she pulled into the driveway that she had first driven a car on, she felt that slightly hollow feeling in her chest that she had come to recognize after years of away games and nearly three years at college as homesickness.

Homesick for a person.

Putting the car into park, Christen reached for her phone and pushed through her hesitation. She didn’t want to play the game where she felt one thing but didn’t want to show her hand and kept it to herself. They’d moved past that a few months ago when they’d said they loved each other for the first time.

She was all in.

Well, fuck.

She had fallen fast.

_I realized something as I pulled into my parents’ driveway._

_I’m homesick._

It only took a couple of seconds before the flashing ellipses showed Tobin responding.

_for Stanford?_

_For Stanford, for Kelley and I’s place._

_For you._

_miss you too, chris_

_i don’t always feel like i have a home_

_like a permanent one_

_but i think i know what you mean_

_i think i get homesick for you too_

_That’s gay._

Christen chuckled at the way she had responded to the incredibly sweet and open admission that Tobin had made, knowing that the humor would get through best to her girlfriend exactly how much the admission meant to her.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Christen got out of the car and pulled her duffle out of the trunk, walking up to the door.

* * *

Tobin grinned at Christen’s response as she got out of her car at the end of the long drive back to New Jersey from UNC. As a senior, Tobin was well acquainted with the feelings of home that had to shift quickly in just a few years, though she knew she was likely much more laid back about the concept than most people.

Basking Ridge was home, that was certain.

Her parents were here, as were her siblings when it mattered and the sights, sounds, and experiences of her growing years.

But Tobin had grown up traveling for soccer. Had grown up with an eye on foreign soccer stars with a work ethic and passion so deliciously far away from the East Coast. Had grown up loving a sport – surfing – that wasn’t easily done by staying in New Jersey all the time. Had grown up relishing in the idea of making the most of what every single place had to offer rather than missing home.

And so, she had grown into a sense of not setting down roots. She had just never seen the point.

So many of her classmates were stressing out about where they were going to settle down after college. Her teammates were talking about which clubs they were going to sign to, what cities they were going to live in.

She had thought for years that she would be happy just going exactly where the tide took her.

And that was true, to a degree.

She still didn’t have a strong attachment to any particular place. UNC was important to her; she loved being a Tar Heel and looked forward to the next semester she would have, but it wasn’t a place that she would miss too horribly after she left. She would miss her friends, but they wouldn’t lose touch. Not the ones who mattered.

Christen had snuck up on her, though. Had crawled under her skin. Tobin had found a home in her and she had hardly realized it until she had signed the lease.

So, yeah. Tobin Heath was homesick.

Go figure.

* * *

“Hey, Chrissy?”

Christen looked up from her book, smiling as she saw her little sister standing in front of her, “Yeah, Chan?”

Channing stalled for a second, uncharacteristically quiet.

Patting the space on the couch next to her, Christen motioned for her sister to take a seat, putting her bookmark in where she left off and setting her book aside.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Are you ever scared of playing?” Channing got the words out, but barely, sinking into the couch.

Christen sighed, holding her arm out for her sister to curl into her side like she had done countless times over the years.

As Channing settled, Christen turned the words over in her mouth, finally pushing herself to say them, even if imperfectly, “Lots of the time. I’m terrified, Channy. I feel like I don’t play well enough, and I analyze every step and play and touch and pass until I’m more in my head than I am on the field.”

“Then why do you still play?”

A small smile came to Christen’s face as she began, “The rush. For the rare days I play freely, and it feels like it’s just the ball and me and the endless field, like it felt when I first fell in love with the game. For my teammates, for Kelley who picked up a scared freshman and didn’t see competition for all the records she was setting, instead seeing a friend and a partner. For the—um, the other gifts the game has given me.”

Christen looked Channing in the eyes, saying gently, “You don’t have to play in college if you don’t want to. You could also try it out and see where it takes you. You don’t have to use all four seasons of your eligibility. Honestly, there’s a lot of work to do before I can be fully happy playing soccer like I was a couple years ago, but I love it and at the end of the day I can see myself getting there again. But Chan, that isn’t the only road. I promise.”

Channing smiled, snuggling tighter into her sister’s side. She would be headed into college in the fall, and nerves were starting to eat at her.

Suddenly, though, Channing sat up ramrod straight, almost clipping Christen in the chin with the top of her head.

“Chrissy—” She drew out.

“Yes, Chan?” Christen furrowed her brow, concerned by the sudden change in her little sister’s demeanor.

“When you said gifts, that soccer’s given you,” Channing probed, “What did you mean?”

Schooling her face, Christen shrugged, “I mean, lots of things—”

“Don’t bullshit me, sis.”

“I mean—”

“Chrissy.”

“Chan, really—”

“Tyler!” Channing hollered down the hallway to where their oldest sister was, “Chrissy has a secret and she’s not telling us!”

Christen’s eyes widened, gaping at Channing, “Chan! What did you do that for?”

Before Christen could get too riled up at her younger sister, Tyler came bounding into the living room, a puppy on her heels.

“Christen Annemarie, who’s the guy?” Tyler asked before she fully entered the room.

“There isn’t a guy, you two!” Christen defended. _There really wasn’t, after all._

Tyler smirked, sitting on the arm of the couch to probe further, “So you won’t mind if I asked Kelley if she knows anything about this secret, right?”

“She’ll tell you there isn’t a guy.” Christen tried to say convincingly.

Shrugging and pulling out her phone, Tyler grinned, “Alright then!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Christen reached for the phone only for it to be pulled further away as she pleaded, “I’ll tell you. There really isn’t a guy though.”

Her sisters sat patiently (okay, not very patiently, but still), waiting for Christen to reveal her secret.

“Um, so, there isn’t a guy, but,” Christen took a breath before continuing, bracing herself, “I did meet someone.”

Her sisters began clamoring for answers, but Christen just steadily and quietly continued, “We were playing UNC my sophomore year. A friend of Kelley’s. Tobin.”

“Sophomore year!”

“Tobin HEATH?”

“Wait, what?” Tyler caught what Channing had yelled at the same time she had shouted, “You’re dating Tobin Heath? Like, USWNT Tobin Heath? Olympic gold medalist Tobin Heath?”

“And you kept this from us for a year?” Channing exclaimed, “You guys played UNC like, way before Christmas last year.”

Christen shook her head, letting her sisters get their most burning thoughts off their chests before she would begin to even attempt to answer any questions. Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text as her sisters continued to lose their collective brain cell.

_So, let’s just say my sisters know about you now?_

_It’s taken a while to tell them. I know. I just haven’t known how._

_no worries_

_guess the ‘rents are gonna find out soon?_

_i think i’m going to tell my fam soon_

_next few days_

_if all goes well_

“Oh my god, Channy, she’s texting her _girlfriend_ ,” Tyler teased, “She’s too cool to talk to us now.”

_Will you hate me if I skype you right now?_

_go for it_

Christen dragged her sisters with her to her room, setting some ground rules before opening Skype on her computer and calling Tobin.

“Hey Chris,” came the voice on the other end, the image grainy as it loaded, “Your sisters there?”

“Yep,” Christen gestured to each of them as she introduced them, “This is Tyler and Channing. They were being insufferable so I figured you should suffer with me to, since this is at least fifty percent your fault.”

Tobin grinned, waving jauntily, “Hey guys, I’m Tobin. You must be the cooler versions of Chris.”

Christen rolled her eyes, surprisingly letting herself take a backseat as she watched some of her very favorite people get to know each other.

At some point in the conversation, Tobin’s little brother Jeffrey burst into her room asking if she wanted to play FIFA, and eventually all the Heath and Press siblings were gathered around the two computers on either end of the call, talking about the upcoming festivities and teasing the couple mercilessly.

On their part, Christen and Tobin both had wide smiles on their faces as their families began to collide for the first time, though there was no shortage of moments of groaning at a well-placed jab or embarrassing story.

_this is nice_

_Is it crazy how well I think our families fit?_

_Our siblings, at least._

_was thinking the exact same thing_

* * *

That evening, after movies had been watched, carols sung, dinners had, and midnight masses attended, the girls lay in the dark of their respective rooms on opposite sides of the country, just past midnight on the west coast.

“Chris?”

“Yeah, Tobin?”

“Happy Christmas, my love,” Tobin murmured.

“Happy Christmas, Tobin,” Christen responded softly, “I love you.”

“It’s our first Christmas,” Tobin pointed out, “I can’t wait for our first Christmas together.”

“Soon, love. Now go to sleep, or Santa won’t come,” Christen joked.

“That’s okay,” A yawn escaped Tobin’s mouth as she spoke, “I already got the best gift I could get this year, not unless it’s you here for Christmas Day.”

“Oh you sappy sweetheart. It’s so much later for you than it is for me,” Christen smiled, holding back a yawn of her own, “What about we both go to sleep?”

“Goodnight, Chris,” Tobin murmured.

“Goodnight, Toby. You’re the best gift I could ask for. I love you.”

“Happy Christmas, my love.”


End file.
